Some Nights
by Dee Beckett
Summary: A long, hard case had left Booth feeling rather troubled when he got home...


**Some Nights**

***~o0o~***

"Rough day?"

Booth looked up from the floor to his concerned partner in front of him. Her eyes shone with worry and question.

He knew why, though. It was unusual for him to be this quiet when he arrived. Ususally he announced his homecoming to the entire house, and Zack and Hank would race down the hall to hug him, while Christine would only roll her eyes and give him a peck on the cheek.

But he was coming home late, so maybe he decided not to disturb his kids. Plus, he was having a fight with Christine this morning, and both left the house in a foul mood.

She eyed him suspiciously when he scanned the living room. "Where are the kids?" He ignored her question as he asked her back. Brennan's gaze still followed him as he turned his back on her to search for food in the fridge.

"Upstairs." Said Brennan. "Booth, what is it? You are not usually this quiet. Is there something wrong?" She asked, concerned.

He sighed as he closed the fridge, empty-handed. Brennan was still eyeing him, her stare pleading for answers. "It's nothing, Bones. Just... the case I was working today."

He led her to the couch and he let her snuggled beside him. "The murder of that famous enterpreneur you said the other day?" She asked again. He faintly nodded, "What about it?"

Booth tightened his embrace on her, and he let out a deep breath. "We caught the killer." He said, somewhat upset about the fact.

"Well, that's good, right?" Brennan asked, uncertain. Booth nodded again, but Brennan saw that something was disturbing him. "And?" She encouraged him to go on.

"The murderer is a fourteen years old girl." Booth finally dropped the bomb. "Alyssa Santiago, the victim's daughter."

Brennan felt something was dropped in the pit of her stomach. "Fourteen?" She asked, her voice strangled. "Oh my..."

Booth grimaced. "She didn't even deny it." Said him. "And what's worst, she didn't even regret it." Brennan shivered at the thought. A fourteen years old girl, murdered her father without feeling any remorse?

"Did she... did she said her motives?" Brennan asked again, seeing that this information disturbed Booth as bad as she did. Booth nodded, his face somehow darkened in grim. Brennan immediately knew that she was asking the wrong thing.

"If it's too hard to talk about right now, I can wait," She gripped his right hand tightly, reassuring him. He gripped her back, and shook his head.

Booth sighed."Her father, he... he made her suffer." He said, "He was mentally abusive towards her, saying things, nasty stuff, lowering her self esteem. All without any reason. And he hit her, Bones. So many times, that I could see the bruises on her neck and... God." Booth's eyes was shut, and Brennan guessed that he was on a trip down memory lane of his own experiences with his father.

Brennan placed a comforting hand on his broad shoulder, encouraging him to go on. Booth smiled faintly at her. "At first, she could contain it, as long as her little sister isn't mentally harmed by their father's... actions." Brennan nodded in understandment. "But then, when Alyssa became unresponsive to her father, he turned... to her little sister." Booth's tone filled with rage and disgust.

"Dianna?" Brennan asked, she dimly remembered the name of the girl. "She... she commited suicide... when she was 10... wasn't she?" Booth nodded, and Brennan felt shiver down her spine. "Oh God, her father...?" She left the question hanging.

"Dianna was more... sensitive. She was more... responsive than Alyssa." Booth explained, his voice pained. "But that means that she was more... fragile. Of course, her father didn't see that coming." He balled his fists. "He always tought that his crazy talkings were motivational speech for his daughters. He never felt guilty about it. And then... bang," He sounded like he was strangled. "One of his daughter was dead."

Brennan sensed that he wasn't done yet. And indeed he wasn't.

"He blamed her." Now he sounded deadly. "That son of a bitch blamed Alyssa for Dianna's death. And at that point, she just... couldn't take it anymore." He sighed. "God, Bones, that girl lost her mother already, and her father was indirectly murdering her sister. She's an outsider at her school, Bones. It's like, there's nothing for her to live for. Her life is a total _hell._"

"And you feel that it's wrong to put her in jail," Brennan read his expression, and he grimaced, "aren't you, Booth?" She asked, still unsure with her conclusions.

"I've never had a dillema this big before," He answered her, "I mean, at one side, she's downright guilty, but Bones..." He leaned to the couch, frustrated, "that girl's only fourteen. She has so much to live for, and it feels wrong for me to take it away from her."

But there was a sense of an unfinished bussiness, as if it was not the only thing that Booth was worried about. Brennan was silent, unsure of what to do or say.

"What if...?" Booth mumbled, unsure, as his eyes traveled to the stairs almost unconciously. His grip to her hand tightened.

And Brennan suddenly understood.

"Booth," She said, almost sternly, "Do not even dare to think that you are capable to do _that _kind of evil." Her voice filled with anger and desperation, as she was trying to convince him. "You are not your father, Booth. We are not our parents, and we will get _this _right."

Booth's gaze stayed to the stairs, as his mind contrasted the stare by thinking their children that were currently sleeping upstairs.

"What if we won't, Bones?" He said, almost whispering. "I mean, _we _aren't normal. We don't know how to be normal, Bones! For God's sake, we grew up in some messed up conditions!" His voice was thick with emotion. "Did you listen to Stapes this morning? To her protests?"

Brennan was looking perpellexed, as Booth sank deepr to the couch. "Booth, she was a teenager. Teenagers tend to think and act very simply, without any consideration or further thinking."

He sighed deeply, as if the burden of the whole world was dumped on his shoulders, "I just don't want them to end up the way Alyssa did." He muttered, almost too low for Brennan to hear. "I mean, Alyssa sounded so... heartless. And she's about the same age as Stapes."

"And they won't," Brennan turned his conflicted face from the stairs to her eyes. "Yes, we may did not grow up in a normal, happy family, but we will figure this—parenthood—out." She, too, let out a deep breath, "Even if we're stuck—which we are not and hopefully will not be in the near future—we still have Angela, Cam, Hodgins, Mr. Bray, Dr. Sweets, Caroline, Ms. Wick, Mr. Vaziri, my father, Caroline... all ready to help us out."

"Besides," Brennan suddenly added, "Normal does not fit us right, anyway." She lightly joked.

She sounded so pure, so innocent, so _believeable, _that the tightness in Booth's chest loosened a bit. "How in the world do I deserve to get all of you?" He tucked a stray of hair behind her left ear. "You're way too good for me."

Brennan chuckled, "I should be the one who asks the question." She responded with a kind smile on her face, "You, Christine, Jack, Hank... all of you should have someone better than an ice-cold, semi-asperger, overly-logical woman like me." She stated, her smile faltered a bit.

"Oh, Bones," Booth immediately responded, "We wouldn't have it any other way," He leaned closer to her, until thye were nose-to-nose. "We'll figure this out." He said, almost like he was asking for a permission.

"We'll figure this out." Brennan agreed. Booth was now looking less tense, but not quite relaxed, yet.

"Hey, why don't you check on Christine?" Brennan suggested, "She likes to pretend as if she was sleeping, but once we let her out of sight, she would stay up all night, destroying her eyes by reading in a dim light situation."

Brennan said this as if Christine was at the same guilty level with a thief, and thus made Booth chuckle. "I will, Bones." He reassured her, "Come on," he offered her hand.

Fingers entangled, the two of them walke upstairs. Booth then parted ways with Brennan as he went to his daughter's room's direction, while Brennan went for their bedroom.

Booth took a deep breath, and turned the doorknob to open the door.

Said daughter had inherited his sniper-sense, and therefore she would always respond to even the smallest voice. And tonight was no different.

"Who's there?!" Even in a low-light condition and half-asleep, Christine Booth could sound very dangerous for others. Booth's heart swelled with pride at the thought of this.

"Relax, Stapes," Booth responded, "It's just me." He turned on the lights, and finally he could look at her clearly.

Christine's eyes were thick with sleep. Her hair was sticking onto every direction, and she was having her very-annoyed-look, which is a funny sight, because she was wearing her Shaun the Sheep pajama.

"Dad, it's—" She glanced at the clock, and squinted her eyes because she was too lazy to reach for her glasses, "—11.30 p.m.! What are you doing here?"

Booth shrugged, "Ah, well, I miss my favorite daughter. And it's 11._32_ p.m. honey." He teased her. Christine pouted and laid back to her bed.

"I'm your _only _daughter." She pointed out. "the _favorite _trick can only work with the twins, dad," She reminded him.

"Right," Booth nodded, shoving his hands to his pants's pocket. He went quiet, and so did Christine.

"Well?" Christine finally cracked the awkward silence, "I don't have all night, dad. Tomorrow's Mr. Evan's turn to guard the gate, and I really don't want to be late under his supervision." She explained.

Once again, Booth nodded. He then sat on the edge of her bed and stroke her hair, "Have I told you that I love you today?" Christine shook her head, "Well, then, I love you, okay? You and the twins and your mother, I love all of you." He spilled it out. "And I will fight everything for your happiness, do you hear me, Christine Angela?"

Christine's mouth formed a sloppy grin, which was quickly truning onto a yawn, "I expect the details in the morning, dad." She said, still sleepy, "Only a deep, good case would make you say sappy things like that."

"What, so in your eyes, I can only say mushy things after a very traumatizing case?" Booth raised an eyebrow skeptically.

His daughter shrugged, "Yep. You're the '_I'd-rather-show-it'_ type of guy. You don't say sappy things unless you think that it's extremely necessary, or unless you're alone with mom." She yawned again, and was ready to drift off to sleep, when something struck her.

"Eh, dad," She opened her eyes again and propped her body with her elbows, "Sorry for yelling at you this morning. I just... lost it, I guess." She grinnned sheepishly.

"Apology accepted." Booth said, "But next time you got an F, make sure to tell me or mom personally, alright? I don't really want your teacher to call me because of this again." Christine was about to respond, but he could already knew what was in her mind, "And I won't be mad at you. Life has it ups and downs, and I believe you can survive this down."

The girl raised an eyebrow, "Ever since when you become so philosophic?" She joked him, and he chuckled, "must be a crazily awesome case, huh?"

"Crazy, yes. Awesome? Not so much." He shrugged, before he kissed her forehead, "Goodnight, Stapes," He said quietly, as Christine threw herself back to her bed. He stood up and turned off the lamp, turning the room back onto its dim situation.

"Details in the morning!" Christine reminded him when he was about to get out from the room. This time, Booth chuckled rather loudly, and gave him a thumb up as a promise.

'_Bones is right,' _He thought as he went to his ad Brennan's bedroom, _'normal doesn't really fit us.'_

_End._


End file.
